


Aida

by ToyBoxOfSuz



Series: The Customer [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Escorts, Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, Escort Service, Exhibitionism, M/M, Molestation, Semi-Public Sex, Steter - Freeform, opera - Freeform, peter is a kinky fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-26 14:13:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/966888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToyBoxOfSuz/pseuds/ToyBoxOfSuz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles works as an 'unofficial escort' and he has a pain in the ass customer Peter Hale. They go to see Verdi's Aida, and Peter has ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aida

**Author's Note:**

> I have tonnes of half-finished fices lying around and omg I finished one! \o/
> 
> Betaed by Evy~

 

Stiles absolutely _hated_ when Peter was doing this. Ordering him to arrive one hour earlier just so he will be sure the boy won’t be late. As if Stiles would ever be late after that one time. No, he didn’t want to make Peter angry like that ever, even if it haunted his deepest wet fantasies. But either way, he hated that he had to be one hour early, because he had to sit on the man’s too clean couch and watch his too clean and too perfect and too damn extravagant living room until Peter was ready to leave.

Peter wasn’t looking at him as he was walking from room to room, checking his hair and the clothes he had freshly put on in the mirror. Stiles was sure he did that little catwalk dance just to make him frustrated at some point. Because Peter knew his good points, he knew he was attractive and rich and well mannered, and Stiles had to admit the first two were very true. But the third one? He wasn’t so sure, because Peter was the worst person he had ever had to do business with.

Calling it ‘business’ really took the edge of what he was really doing. His business contained getting _really_ personal with his clients. He needed to get some extra money for college and apparently, _sucking_ a little for it wasn’t a big deal. Of course it takes a type of person to do such a job, but Stiles had principles; he was only using his mouth or hands, nothing more. His ‘agent’ knew her way around to find trustworthy customers who wouldn’t hurt him, which was another plus to it. To simply put it, he was something like an unofficial escort.

His job was supposed to only be to come when called, do the business and leave. Not going out in public and acting like a real escort. If he wanted to be real, then he would get a more professional agent, maybe apply to an agency and fire Peter Hale from his customer list. He always asked Lydia how the hell she found him, or more likely how he found her, but while she was pretty proud of her connections, she preferred to keep this particular one a secret. As much as Stiles could try to figure out about it, Lydia must have been in debt to him or something. Somehow. But maybe it wasn’t the case.

“I would prefer if you were keeping your whale noises to a minimum.” Peter remarked when Stiles groaned out of sheer boredom.

“Hey, just because you pay me to do this, it doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do, okay?” Stiles snapped, because finally some kind of interaction was happening which was still better than watching the smooth fucker prepare for their night. Peter was wearing black tuxedo pants and a dark vest over his white shirt. He was just in the middle of buttoning his cuffs when he turned to Stiles.

“But I can tell you what to do with that mouth of yours, can’t I?” he asked with a half smile, and Stiles wanted to bash his face in. The man was right, damn it.

When Peter was finally done with his attire and set his bowtie in the mirror, Stiles pat the armrest of the couch and stood up.

“Fucking finally, I was starting to get bored out of my mind.” he said and went to get his jacket too. Peter had instructed him to wear the tuxedo he had sent him. He sent him a tuxedo. For real. A tuxedo. The whole set: black pants and a black jacket, with a pearly white vest and a white bowtie. Stiles was sometimes sure that Peter was the only one who wanted him in clothes rather than without clothes. As he was putting his jacket on, he heard Peter clear his throat. It wasn’t the ‘something’s stuck in my throat so I want to get rid of it’ kind but more like the ‘listen to me for a second I’m about to insult you, Stiles’ type. So the boy took a deep breath and turned to him. “What?”

“Would you mind not wearing that like a twat?” Peter asked, motioning toward Stiles with one hand. His expression was of pure disgust, which made the boy even more frustrated.

“For the record, I’m not supposed to do any of this, alright?!” he started, stepping to Peter. “I’m not an escort; I’m just here to suck your dick, so if you want someone who can wear this shit like they were born in it, who can talk about delicate topics with you, like wine and cheese and classical music _and_ suck your dick, then I’m not your guy.” he said, flailing his arms a bit. Sometimes he really got so frustrated that Peter expected things from him that he didn’t want to give and wasn’t even interested in giving.

“I pay a small fortune to you for all this, and you still keep complaining.” Peter rolled his eyes and grabbed the boy’s arm to yank him closer. Stiles sucked in a sharp breath ready to punch the man, but Peter just set his vest straight and checked his bowtie. He was wearing an expensive aftershave and Stiles hated himself for somehow knowing that. He had no interest in Peter Hale’s aftershave. Or anything else of his.

“Because it’s not my job, and money’s not that important.” Stiles retorted.

“And yet, you still let strangers bury their cocks to the hilt in your mouth for money.” Peter said too softly with a dangerous glance as he stepped back to examine Stiles. The boy was unable to move for a second, mostly because he felt so damn offended. One of his principles was that he’s not talking about other customers, especially not like this.

“Well fuck you too.” he snorted at last and watched as Peter got his jacket too. Maybe Stiles was looking like a twat in his attire because he felt like one next to Peter. He came from a rich and well-known family so his uprising was similar to that. He could speak four languages and had a fine taste in coffee and music. He was literate and he always knew what was going on in the world. He was raised to be a fine and attractive gentleman, Stiles could see that, but that was only a mask. Behind that, Peter Hale was the worst, rudest, most violent person Stiles had even encountered. Some gossips straight out called him insane after the fire that killed most of his family. Stiles wondered if such a thing wouldn’t make anyone crazy, watching their loved ones die in front of them…

It wasn’t helping that Peter looked like a damn model in his attire, and next to him, Stiles felt like a wet puppy put in fancy clothes. Hell, anyone would have felt like that next to Peter because he _made_ them feel like that. He found perverted joy in making people feel miserable around him. Stiles had witnessed once how Peter made a woman burst into tears by using the right words at the right time. That was one powerful skill.

“We should get going.” the man said and walked past Stiles and slid his hand on his waist for a moment. The boy shuddered at the contact, because it was just so warm. Too warm. And uncomfortable. He warned Peter numerous times about his wandering hands, but the man always pretended to forget or not to hear, because he was a dick like that.

“Where are we going again?” Stiles asked, as they walked down the stairs of the mansion’s main entrance to the car that was waiting for them.

“To the opera, Stiles. I told you before.” Peter answered with a soft, but annoyed tone as he nodded at his chauffeur and got into the car.

“Oh, great.” the boy groaned, sitting down next to Peter.

“Stiles, whale noises.” the man warned him and motioned to the chauffeur to get going.

“Why do you have to take me do this, I swear to god I don’t get it.” Stiles sighed, crossed his arms and watched the lights of the huge garden pass them in the darkness. “While I get it’s something very beautiful and deep, I still think it’s three hours of my life I won’t get back.”

“What’s with you tonight, Stiles, you’re unusually noisy.” Peter muttered to him, and Stiles didn’t miss the amused undertone.

“That’s what you get if you put me through an hour of boredom.” he warned the other.

\--

It didn’t take much time to get to their destination, and the moment they got out of the car, Stiles could sense Peter putting on his outside world attire. He had a different aura about him, a very official and cold one. Though Peter was always cold and emotionless, besides the anger and violence, his official face was something of a machine’s. Stiles wasn’t sure which scared him more.

As it was expected, they met a few of Peter’s acquaintances so Stiles had to pretend he’s wealthy and would love to see Verdi’s Aida with that totally famous soprano singer in the lead role. Peter had told him her name numerous times but after the nth time, Stiles didn’t have the nerve to ask once again. Thankfully, the lingering time wasn’t long so they could walk up to their box to sit down soon enough.

“Of course you have a private box, of course.” Stiles murmured under his breath as he walked behind Peter into the dark little place. It had chairs for four people, but Stiles was sure they will be the only ones occupying it for tonight. He wondered if he could lay down on two of them to get some sleep until it’s all over.

They had perfect view of the stage and the orchestra which was good news. While the performance didn’t really interest Stiles, he was somehow always fascinated by people playing instruments. When Peter motioned him to sit on the chair next to his in the front row, he sighed in defeat.

“What’s the story again?” he asked, putting his elbows on the edge to look down at the people and the orchestra.

“It’s the story of power, love and betrayal.” Peter answered, handing over the brochure to the boy. Stiles wasn’t impressed with the answer. But he wasn’t all that interested to push further, and he was glad when the lights slowly went out and the piece started.

He was sure that he was going to fall asleep after the first five minutes when there still wasn’t anything on stage yet. So he leaned back in his chair, trying to concentrate on that cute girl who was playing the flute. Not long after the curtains lifted revealing the opening scene. Stiles really wanted to concentrate, but then a hot breath hit his ear.

“That’s Radames, the Egyptian warrior who wants to lead his kingdom into victory against the Ethiopians.” Peter whispered into his ear and the boy tensed up.  The man was too close, he was too warm and the space was too small for this. Stiles hoped it was dark enough that his obvious blush won’t be noticeable too much. Peter was so close that he could feel him smile against his ear just a second before pulling away to enjoy the performance of two people shouting at each other.

From then on Peter occasionally leaned over to him, whispering into his ear about the characters (“That’s Aida, the princess of Ethiopia but now a slave.” “Radames and Aida are in love.”) and very interesting musical remarks about the orchestra’s playing, but Stiles went deaf at each of these occasions. It wasn’t like he was really interested in Peter, but he had a way of getting under his skin with his touches, with his words and now with the mere way he was whispering against his ear. Sometimes his lips were brushing over sensitive skin and Stiles had to bite the inside of his lower lip to not make any kind of noise. Peter would have loved that and the boy didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

The whole first act was like this, Peter whispering into his ear. So he was glad for the break when he could finally be away from him. During the break, Stiles also demanded some champagne, because he felt like he would need it if Peter kept up his creepy behavior.

In the middle of the second act, Stiles felt that familiar warmth somewhere else. This time he was sure he can call Peter out on it, since the man’s hand was sneaking up on his thigh.

“Peter?” Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow pointedly. The man’s gaze was on the stage, but his hand was most definitely on the boy’s thigh. He pretended not to hear Stiles as his fingers stroked him too near to certain sensitive parts. “Peter!” Stiles hissed, grabbing the man’s hand.

“Hm?” the man turned to him finally, with an amused smile plastered on his face. He was enjoying this.

“Would you mind?” Stiles hissed urgently as he was trying to pry Peter’s hand of him.

“Stiles, you’re causing a ruckus, others want to enjoy the performance in peace.” the man whispered, leaning closer again, and looking pointedly over at the box next to theirs. The ladies sitting there were casting annoyed glances at them before turning back to their fancy binoculars. The boy gaped at them, then turned to Peter, blushing bright red.

“Let me go.” he hissed more quietly now, because he didn’t want to bother others just because Peter was being an ass, again.

Peter was looking at him for a moment then slowly pulled back his hand. Just to lean close to Stiles once more.

“Get on your knees and suck me.” he whispered. Stiles could barely react from the shock. He could only gape at Peter for a long moment.

“Wha- but the… the performance…” he muttered looking at the stage. Yes, indeed, the performance was going heavy and it certainly wasn’t time for break yet. And Peter asked him to do his job _right now_?

“Stiles. I won’t say it again.” Peter warned him, and Stiles knew this tone. So he swallowed and turned to the ladies in the other box to see if they would see him duck down. Thankfully both of them were enjoying the happenings on stage too much to notice anything. The boy quickly slipped from his seat to get between Peter’s legs. It was actually pretty difficult thanks to the narrow space of the box. Stiles was kneeling between Peter’s legs and licked his lips as he reached for the man’s zipper. He glanced up for a second, but the man wasn’t looking at him, his attention was on the stage with utter delight on his face. Stiles wasn’t sure if it was the music or his doings which made Peter wear such an expression, but he decided on both.

Stiles unzipped Peter’s pants as quietly as he could and reached inside to squeeze him through his underwear. The man was already half ready, which made Stiles snort.

“You’re one kinky bastard, aren’t you.” He muttered and in that moment a hand sneaked in his hair, yanking him a little. Peter wasn’t looking at him but he seemed to hear everything, despite the chorus on stage.

“The Egyptians won and captured the Ethiopian king, they will have their victory march now.” Peter whispered, without even a hitch of breath as Stiles freed him from his underwear.

The hall was full of people, and Stiles wasn’t sure if people couldn’t see them from the boxes opposite of them, or from the balcony. He had to hope it was dark enough, but maybe that was the point. Maybe Peter wanted these people to see what he’s doing, and he wanted them to see it while people on stage were singing about a victorious battle.

Stiles closed his eyes for a moment as he finally wrapped his fingers around Peter and stroked a few times. He spotted the man’s hand on the armrest of the chair as it was tapping at the rhythm of the music. Somehow, it made Stiles feel like that slave girl on stage, being used for other’s pleasure just like some kind of tool, and he’d never get more attention than a tool. Of course he knew that his job wasn’t exactly romantic, but at times it got to him. To get himself distracted from such thoughts he opened his mouth and placed a kiss on Peter’s hardened flesh.

Stiles might not be too fond of the man, but he had to admit he was one sensual creature. Peter of course knew that and abused it whenever he could, sometimes leaving Stiles frustrated out of his mind with lingering touches. So when he was doing his job, he could channel the lust he felt for Peter Hale into it too. Maybe he was giving him a better, more thorough blowjob than his other customers, but that was his secret.

Stiles placed a few open mouthed kisses on Peter’s member, and then slipped his fingers to his balls, squeezing them a little. The man shifted in his seat, and Stiles smiled smugly. Finally, a reaction. He smiled into Peter’s cock before his tongue darted out to lap at it. He started with small, teasing licks eventually turning them into hungry, sloppy laps. Peter’s scent had gotten stronger, and he was getting harder under his love, and it made Stiles feel powerful over this man. The chorus was singing louder on stage, as if urging him on. Trumpets started playing and at the same time, Stiles parted his lips more to give Peter’s full length a wet and hard lick.

Peter let out a soft sigh and his fingers tightened in Stiles’ hair again. He was getting impatient and very aroused.

‘Good.’ Stiles thought to himself as he shifted a little to continue his work. He grabbed Peter and put his lips on the top of his cock, swirling his tongue over it, nudging at the slit. After a great amount of teasing again, he finally slipped it through his lips. Peter let out a low groan and Stiles wasn’t sure again if it was him or the victorious trumpets. But he wanted to be better than the stupid opera. So he slipped Peter deeper in his mouth and started humming a little. Peter shuddered under him and the boy knew he was doing well in his mission. Despite their audience… if there were any.

Stiles put his hands on Peter’s thighs as he started sucking, and the chorus started singing again. He slowly bobbed his head, almost popping the man out of his mouth before taking him in as deep as he could. He swirled his tongue on the underside of hardened flesh, almost enjoying the taste. Then, he prepared to do something he never does to any of his customers. He took Peter into his mouth to the hilt, feeling him bump into the back of his throat. Stiles swallowed a few times and the man now cupped his head with both of his hands.

“Faster.” he demanded, and Stiles was too ready to oblige, marching towards victory together with the people on stage. He pulled back just to bob his head again. He hollowed his cheeks, sucking with all his might and licking to the point where he almost lost himself too in the process. The music was loud and intense, just like he felt, and Peter was getting more and more tense too. “Don’t make a mess.” Peter panted a little as he was stroking his scalp with his fingers.

‘Who’s making the mess exactly?!’ Stiles retorted mentally, because he was too busy sucking the living soul out of Peter Hale. He fisted his hands in the man’s pants on his thighs as he was trying to take everything Peter had to offer and not choke as that would embarrass both of them. Stiles was tearing up at the effort of swallowing everything and still sucking, helping Peter to ride out his climax.

When it ended, it left Stiles a little breathless. He lifted his arm to wipe his mouth but Peter yanked him again.

“Stop it right there.” he hissed at him and fished out a handkerchief of his pocket and handed it to the boy before he tended to himself. Stiles snorted and wiped his mouth and chin. The singing and music had finished and the audience burst out in applause. The second act had ended. But Peter wasn’t looking at the stage, he was watching Stiles with a dazed half smile on his lips. The boy was looking up at him, licking his swollen lips.

“Good boy.” Peter muttered, as he reached out to brush his thumb over Stiles’ lower lip and Stiles was actually proud of himself. He gave a premium experience to Peter and he always appreciated it.

Though Stiles’ smugness only lasted for a little while, until he got to know that the performance had two more acts. And during both of these acts, Peter was whispering and touching him and was a general pain in the ass.

\--

“So, how did you like it?” Peter asked when they were back in the car to go to have dinner.

“I don’t know, I was distracted for a while in the second act, I couldn’t follow from then on.” Stiles shrugged, looking out of the window into the night view of the city.

Peter just let out a low chuckle as he moved over. He’d gotten close. Too close for Stiles’ taste.

“Peter, you were the worst tonight and if you won’t keep your tentacles to yourself, I’m getting out of the car and and going home.” Stiles warned the man.

“Tentacles?” Peter asked as he put his arm on Stiles’ headrest.

“Your arms and hands were like tentacles, I shoo away one and they attack from somewhere else.” the boy explained. “Stop touching me.” he hissed when Peter’s hand was on his thigh _again_.

“You don’t like it?” the man asked, and without any warning he moved his fingers to have a feel of Stiles’ package, making the boy cry out in surprise.

“I’m not an escort, I only suck your dick! No touching, no fucking and no kissing, those are the fucking rules!”

“I didn’t ask that, Stiles, I asked if you don’t like it.” Peter whispered into his ear again and it just so wasn’t fair. Stiles squirmed, trying to pry the man’s hand off once again.

“Peter, I’m serious…!” he tried.

“Me too.” the man retorted, as he brushed his lips against Stiles’ neck. “I want to fuck you, Stiles. I want to fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to walk for a week. I want to fuck you and watch my seed leak out of you…”

“Oh my god…!” Stiles gasped, because _hell yes_ that would have been sweet. But Peter was still a customer and he didn’t want to get tangled up with him. While Peter was rich and a pain to work with, Stiles didn’t _know_ more about him. He seemed like a dangerous and _insane_ man and Stiles wasn’t up to getting involved with Peter’s luggage.

“I pay you.” Peter continued.

“No, I told you, I only- I only- ah, stop that with your hand, stop it!”

“I can smell that you want it, Stiles, don’t lie to me.”

“That’s the creepiest thing you’ve ever said to me, now stop this!” Stiles yelled, pushing at the man, but it seemed like he was a damn rock. Stiles swore in that moment that if he gets out of this without any worse experience, he’s going to be a frequent visitor at the gym.

While Peter actually stopped groping him, his mouth stayed where it was. He brushed his lips over and over against Stiles’ neck.

“Peter…” the boy sighed, trying to move away, but there was nowhere to go.

“I know you didn’t have other customers in the last months other than me.” Peter breathed against his neck, and placed a small kiss on it.

“Wha- that’s not true!” Stiles gasped, shivering.

“Are you saying Lydia’s lying?” Peter asked with a smirk. Stiles bared his teeth and decided to have a long, long talk with Lydia about not talking about him with customers.

“It’s because you don’t give me time to meet anyone else!” he tried.

But it was true, Peter was asking for him a lot, so the amount of money he wanted to earn from this job got provided completely by him. It was convenient. And… yes, something else, which Stiles didn’t want to think about.

“If you let me have you I give you enough so you won’t ever have to suck anyone else.” the man continued, and yes, it was tempting. But Stiles had certain principles. For example, not dating sensual but insane fuckers who were once his customer.

“No.” he answered shortly. Peter growled against his neck. Stiles could barely believe it, but yes, it was a growl. Then he tilted his head to kiss Stiles’ chin and the boy wanted to turn his head away. He shouldn’t do this. Kissing Peter Hale would so not help him getting his point through. “No kissing, I told you.” he repeated.

“Pretend you’re not working right now, then.” Peter smirked as if he knew he was going to get what he wanted. Stiles swallowed and his eyes fluttered shut the moment he felt Peter’s lips on his. They were hot, almost feverish, and his stubble was brushing against his chin. Stiles gasped through his nose and kissed back and knew he was lost then and there.

He was kissing back. This is it, he wasn’t professional anymore, he let Peter Hale kiss him, and he was even kissing back. This is the end.

Stiles was actually fantasizing about kissing Peter before, and still, the real one was better, and thus worse in some ways. It was everything he wanted, with the promise of good sex, money and even love. But Stiles could tell that possessiveness and violence were in the deal too. It wasn’t healthy. But who’s healthy in this world?

“Stop the car!” he gasped against Peter’s lips when he felt like breaking. If he were to keep this up he would end up on Peter’s mattress, or his couch, or no, he would screw him on those grand stairs of the main entrance… _Yes, let’s do it_! Stiles’ body screamed, but he needed time. “Please, just- please stop the car!”

And for his greatest relief, the car pulled over. Peter was still deep in his personal space, eyeing him expectantly. “What do you say?” he asked a bit out of breath as well. Stiles closed his eyes for a moment before he scrambled around to open the door on his side. “What do you say?!” Peter asked louder, grabbing his arm.

“I’ll call you.” Stiles barked back and leaped out of the car onto the sidewalk. “And you better pay me when you calmed the fuck down!” he shouted as he was backing away. “And I’m gonna keep the tux!” he added, just in case, and turned to run.

Peter was leaning out of the car, watching as the boy waved over a taxi and got into it. He sighed and sat back, closing the door. He set his bowtie with a smug smirk and ordered the chauffeur to go on.

The next day, there was one new message on his voicemail…

**Author's Note:**

> Verdi's Aida [on Youtube](http://youtu.be/b8rsOzPzYr8).
> 
> And the [Triumph March](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bFCxJ56n3zY).


End file.
